


Free Falling From My High Horse

by Syzygy_y_y



Series: Godly AU that needs a name [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M, No Proper Relationships Yet, god!genji, god!hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syzygy_y_y/pseuds/Syzygy_y_y
Summary: Jesse McCree finds himself in an awkward position as the god he's been praying to actually shows up.But that's nothing compared to Hanzo who's now stuck in his human body.---------Short prequel(?) written for the mcreversebang2018





	Free Falling From My High Horse

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I want to thank topaz-chan for being the most amazing partner anyone could have. As soon as I saw their idea for the mcreverse bang I was hooked and I am so grateful to them for putting up with all the complications that I've been having recently. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank Dee and any other organisers who have been so patient and understanding.
> 
> But without further ado. Behold my first ever work.

The temple of the Elder was empty when the stranger appeared.

His armour and the weapon holstered at his hip spoke of lawlessness. Of mercenary work and a difficult life upon the road. And whilst the stranger had the scars and (the mostly true) stories that came with such a life, he did not have the cruel nature which often accompanied them. 

He stopped to put out his cigar, casually rearranging the red cloth draped across his shoulders before entering. The stranger knew that nothing good came out of disrespect. And, unfortunately for him, most people considered his cigarillos downright offensive. He sauntered forwards, his spurs clinking over the tiles, his steps slow so as to help his eyes to adjust to the dark.

As he strode forward, the stranger eyed the gilt shrines from under the wide brim of his hat. They sat, as ever, along the wall and bore a wide variety of incense sticks and candles. The mixture of candlelight and wispy smoke sent flickering shapes dancing across the tiles of the temple floor. Tiles inlaid with sapphire yet worn to that soft state of polish that only an old stone floor can gain after years of visitors. A strange sight, as the stranger had never had any company beyond the various statuettes littering the podiums around the temple. And damn wouldn't it be nice to have company other than those statuettes. Giving them names hadn't done anything for them. They were still creepy lil’ fuckers and always seemed to move every damn time he visited. 

And he had visited a lot. Multiple times over the months (which had eventually turned into years), seeing it in every type of light (or lack thereof. Whatever possessed him to visit during a storm sure got a kick out of watching him stumble around like an idiot as the candles all blew out). He had never seen anyone else. For all he knew, he had come here so much that he himself was responsible for wearing down the tiles. The thought made him chuckle as he carried on.

He passed further into the depths of the temple, leaving the statuettes to plot his eventual and untimely demise. Within the central shrine a lack of windows on the higher tiers cloaked the ceiling in shadow, only serving to make by the rich wood, with which the temple had been built, ten times darker than usual.

Colour kept the shadows at bay in the form of murals. Finely etched in gold and painted in shades of blue and indigo, the scenes depicted were of twisting scales and thunderous fury. Flawlessly beautiful yet threatening. A complete opposite from the temple across the courtyard which housed the shrine to the Elder’s brother. That particular temple sported lofty beams and open windows that let wind pass through the numerous chimes hung there, in turn producing hundreds of sharp peals which resounded off the surrounding columns. The chirruping replies form the plentiful sparrow nests did nothing to help the situation. Together, the two filled the Younger’s temple with the sounds of life.

All in all it was easier to see why more flocked to the temple of the Younger than the Elder. 

Many had learnt long ago that if a problem was to be solved then the youngest of the two gods was the more approachable, more charitable. Easily delighted and charmed, he spread his offerings over his followers like a farmer’s wife giving grain to her hens. All adored him. And they should, for he represented all growth and change. Something that many wished for.

His brother, in comparison, was silent. A thunderous cloud looming above. He was the representation of stability and stasis. As such, those that beseeched him were left wanting. And those that scorned him found themselves begging for mercy. Perhaps, the stranger mused as he paced towards the central shrine, the only reason that this temple stood at all was fear that the Elder would be angered at its destruction.

Not that it mattered much. The stranger liked the quiet. It allowed him to pray.

Those that didn't know him well would probably laugh at him for praying to the Elder. He would find no protection from a god who had never even walked amongst the mortals, let alone answered their prayers. He'd be lucky if he even got a whisper. Not like he cared what people thought. He wasn't here for protection or blessings. He just needed somewhere quiet to voice his thoughts and, maybe, for someone to listen.

The stranger came to a stop in front of the central shrine. The only offerings (a bunch of marigolds from his last visit) sat wilted and dull. He cleared them off, hastily brushing the rest of the shrine from its dust before placing a new bunch of flowers. This time it was a few heads of purple wisteria, freshly picked on the way to the temple.

Finally satisfied with his work, the stranger knelt down and looked skyward. He had no idea whether this helped, or whether it was better praying using other methods such as the monks’ meditation or the commoners’ clasped hands. But for now, and every other visit, he would do what felt right to him. 

“Um howdy.” The stranger winced as his voice echoed throughout the chamber.  
“It's me again. I see no one's been here since last time ‘round so I cleaned your shrine. Gave it some new flowers and all. Looks real pretty if I do say so m’self. Blues and purples always seem to suit you more.” 

He coughed and took off his hat before smoothing out his hair (not like it helped). For a man that spoke twenty times more than he ever visited he never seemed to figure out how to start his prayers off. He reminded himself that complimenting a god he'd never even seen wasn't exactly the way to do it (though it did work plenty for other folk).

So he took a deep breath, before beginning again.  
“I have another contract. This one seems real easy, almost too easy if you know what I'm sayin’... ‘Course you don't know what I'm sayin’. Being a god and all. But it's the thought that counts. It's a way down in the middle of buttfuck nowhere this time. Desert country. Got a few dogs reckonin’ they can threaten some lord or somethin’. Nothin’ much but enough to warrant a contract. See these folks took one of this lord’s daughters. His favourite apparently.” 

The stranger let out a chuckle.

“Not that he’s supposed to have a favourite or nothin’. Guess she's got the best marriage prospects or somethin’ like that. Anyway, she's been screamin’ down the phone to her daddy to save her so I've gotta go in guns blazin’ as usual and take them all out. Don't really see a reason to though. Her daddy’s a real prick, lookin’ down at me so disgusted, damn near makin’ me think he was gonna cash in my bounty!”

Once again the stranger laughed, a deep rich sound that quickly turned to swearing when a bird flew past his head and into the night. Turning towards the door he swore as he noticed the dark sky outside. He hadn't realised so much time had passed, even if he had set out just as the sun had started setting.

Hastily he added a few prayers for his mama’s soul before looking up one last time. The amber candlelight reflected in his whiskey eyes as he placed his beaten hat back onto his head and stood to walk back out into the night, unaware that twin pairs of eyes were watching him go.

\------------

The mortal had proven to be annoying. 

It had started small. The man, named McCree, had snuck in during a particularly dark night. Drunk and listing, he pelted the shrine with useless questions that became ever more silly as the night went on (the cowboy had also seemed particularly fond of naming every piece of statuary Bessie much to Hanzo's chagrin)

He had never expected him to return. Yet now every time there was a whiff of a contract he would dash towards the temple as if an excited hound, spewing anticipation for his possible adventures. 

Hanzo might have been able to bear it, had McCree not returned after with more excitement (usually from a contract well done) and furthermore filled Hanzo’s waking hours with fast-paced gibberish and nonsense slang. What did frog hair have to do with ones feelings anyway?! He was sure that he'd never understand the cowboy

Genji had found it funny. Hilariously so. At least until Hanzo summoned a storm around his most beloved monk.

Perhaps Hanzo's irritation had stemmed the cowboy being the only visitor to his temple when his brother’s was bursting with life, perhaps it was because no matter what troubles Hanzo laid across his path he would always reappear without a scratch, as if a cockroach. Storm, earthquake, snow. He would merely pop back up, dust off his clothes, and carry on walking, whistling a tune as he went.

This time however was different.

It began as a small twinge within his chest which grew to a stabbing pain then, eventually, agony. Clenching his chest in anger and pain, he sent his soul out searching for the source of his discomfort.

Lo and behold, the cowboy was at its source. Sitting behind a small outcrop within a gorge, it seemed like every other time that the gunslinger had gotten into a fight (not like Hanzo had watched him fighting or anything).

However, unlike every previous time he had (“not”) watched McCree fight, there was something wrong. 

Blood streamed from the cowboy’s side. He held the wound closed, cursing as gunshots hit the outcrop of rock serving as his cover. A dozen or so raggedly dressed enemies stood at the opposite side of the gorge. Their clear aim proved that they knew exactly where McCree was. They were merely waiting for him to chance running out into the open. 

As Hanzo watched the flicker of McCree's soul gutter, he realised that the pull he had in fact felt, was that of a summoning. A small action that the most devoted of followers could use to call upon their favoured God in times of trouble. The feeling was eerily unknown to him but had been described once by his brother.

Hanzo weighed his options. One one hand he could leave the cowboy to die. The summoning was unwanted. It would need less effort to let him die than to save him and it would solve the problem of Hanzo's peace being ruined. However the other hand presented an opportunity. The older brother within him yearned to lecture lecture the fool on disturbing his peace. Surely a life debt would prove to be enough to sew that man’s mouth shut.

Although he did entertain the idea of letting him die. The tugging pain in his chest flared as if in warning. Somehow this man had become a devout follower by merely visiting once or twice a week. The thought bothered him slightly. However there was nothing he could do.

He let out a sharp sigh, or as close to a sigh as a deity like him could get. He did not want to test the boundaries of a summoning. Not even for the fool before him. He edged his consciousness further behind the outcrop intending to protect himself during what he was about to do.

Hanzo shuddered as he felt bones beginning to form. Despite centuries without once walking upon earth, it was easy enough remembering how to turn the corporeal into mortal flesh. Skin sewed itself over muscle and bone. Blood rushed through newly created veins. A new mortal heart began to beat as Hanzo opened his, now human, eyes to look at the landscape around him.

Up close the fighting was confusing. Without the advantage of a birds eye view Hanzo was left blind to his enemies. Not that it mattered. They gave themselves up in the form of a spray of bullets which left him cursing and ducking for cover. Within an instant a bow formed in his hands and a quiver upon his back. Hanzo allowed himself a grim smile as he nocked the first arrow. He had a human body, yes, but his divine power was still there. His veins flickered with electricity as he called upon his godly power and let the arrow loose. 

Within an instant two great dragons burst forth, twining around one other. The men who were previously firing turned to run but found themselves trapped against the side of the gorge. With nowhere to run they were quickly “devoured”, leaving nothing but charred corpses falling to the ground. 

Hanzo felt satisfaction for all of two seconds before the world suddenly tilted. He groaned, putting a hand to his head. Centuries had dulled his memories and, therefore, his sense of how much energy it took to conjure the great spirits. Shaking off his nausea, Hanzo stood on his feet, swaying slightly with dizziness.

McCree still remained behind the outcrop a few feet away. He was still bleeding yet an emotion akin to awe was plastered upon his face. Apparently the spirits had made quite the impression. 

The clear awe of his only follower did nothing to disparage Hanzo's temper. Letting a thunderous glare overcome his features, he imagined the numerous insults he would throw at McCree. He took a step, intending to storm over to the cowboy. 

However, it seemed that centuries also made him forget how to control a human body as he misstepped and pitched forward, fully planting his face into the dirt.

Great roaring laughter. Had Hanzo not been so furious with his bodies refusal to cooperate he would have found it to be pleasantly deep and rough. He pulled his face from the dust to continue glaring at the cowboy which only seemed to make him laugh louder. Fortunately karma was a bitch and McCree’s wound chose that particular moment to send a twinge of pain, effectively turning his laughter into breathless cursing. He groaned, falling back against the rock.

Now on his feet again, Hanzo made his way slowly towards the cowboy. 

He would later insist to any who would listen that it was an intimidating pace. Meant to make McCree afraid. Instead it was more of the lilting uneasy steps that someone might see from a drunk fool or an especially newborn deer. It was clear from the laughter in McCree’s eyes that he was barely restraining himself from another outburst at the sight. Either the pain in his side or the downright murderous gaze upon Hanzo's face seemed to stop him from signing such a death warrant.

Finally, after an excruciating ten seconds of uneven stepping he stood in front of McCree.

“Mighty thankful stranger”. The cowboy began warily, clearing his throats slightly. Hanzo noted, with a mild distaste that this was similar to how he had started most of his prayers. 

The cowboy continued “Ah, who are you? I ain't never seen your pretty face before and strangers ain't to keen on givin’ me any aid. Most think me a common outlaw” He chuckled to himself. As if it was some great joke.

Hanzo rolled his eyes.   
“How you have ever been mistaken for an outlaw when you are clearly an idiot is beyond me.” He dusted off his trousers which had been muddied by his fall. “You run into danger with no regard for yourself and then- Then you dare to summon me?! It is the most bullheaded, idiotic, st-”

Hanzo's list of insults was halted by a hasty “Woah there darlin’!”. The cowboy held up a hand placatingly, pausing to catch his breath. “You ain't making a lick of sense. I summoned you?’ I don’ even know who you are!”

Hanzo's legs wobbled with exertion as he strained to his full height. Clearly this man was an idiot. Did he not even realise who stood before him?”

“Who else would come to the aid of a fool like you?” At McCree's protests Hanzo held up a hand.

“You come to my temple every time you have a contract. You come to my temple to pray and make foolish conversation. You come to my temple and name every statue Bessie. And yet, despite this and everything else you have done, you still do not recognise me?” Hanzo scoffed in disbelief, completely ignoring the fact that the cowboy had no way to recognise him.

McCree squinted slightly before his eyes widened almost comically. His mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to say something yet it only served to make him look like a fish. 

“N-no.” He gasped. “That ain't possible. You don't answer prayers. You… you ain't never answered prayers!”

Hanzo wobbled closer as McCree attempted to back into the rock.

“Believe me I wish I could ignore it but something is pulling me towards you. I had no choice but to help you”

A beat passed.

“Something pulled you huh?” McCree finally replied, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. His earlier fear fading away like morning fog.

Hanzo felt his face turn hot “n-no that is not what I mean-” He faltered as he saw that McCree was, once again holding onto laughter.

“Do not say a word mortal. You should show more gratitude to someone who has saved your life” 

McCree shifted at his harsh tone which prompted a pained twinge.  
“Ain't exactly saved me yet darlin’” He gestured down to his wound, smiling tightly. 

Hanzo sighed again. It would be foolish to go through the effort of saving McCree for him to die of blood loss. He knelt and removed McCree's hands, ignoring his hiss of pain. As he examined the wound it became clear that McCree had been felled by a single bullet wound. Surprising considering how outmatched he had been. Further prodding (and cursing on McCree's part) revealed that the bullet was still lodged deep in the flesh. 

“Hold still.” Hanzo chanced a look towards McCree's pained face. “And be quiet. I need to concentrate”.

Laying his hands on top of the wound, Hanzo, once again, called upon the dragons but instead of calling upon their destructive side, he called upon their healing. Blue light sprung forth from his hands, bathing the gorge around them in shades of violet. McCree gasped as the bullet slid free and the wound closed.

The dizziness was easier this time. It was always easier to heal than destroy. 

McCree stared in wonderment at his healed wound, running his finger over it reverently. He prodded it once more, as if to check that it had truly healed, before moving to stand. Hanzo proved to be entirely unhelpful offering him a hand as both men nearly fell back down again. McCree let out a soft chuckle.

“Well” a brief exhale “Thank you, your lordship” he offered a hand to Hanzo who brushed it aside.

“Do not consider this an act of kindness. It is a warning”

The cowboy did his best to look confused.   
“What?”

“I want you to stop coming to my temple.” Hanzo squared his shoulders “Stop praying there, stop leaving offerings there, just stop coming altogether. I am sick of your constant talking. It disturbs my peace. The only reason I even came to help you in the first place was because if the summoning. Which I can’t ignore!”

A hurt look flickered over McCree's face at his biting comments before disappearing, replaced by something ugly  
“Well I'm sorry your holiness but I ain't goin’ there for you.” He spat.

“Well then you can find somewhere else to prattle on about contracts. Just leave my temple be”

“No, it's the only peace I got.”

Infuriated, Hanzo clenched his fists. Why was this stranger so damn stubborn?

There was only one way to ensure his own peace.

Vows were difficult. Even more so if it was against another person. Putting power into words he shot a glare at McCree and said   
“Jesse McCree I ban you from my temple. I ban you from my shrines and holy artifacts. Disobey at your own peril.” The magic wound tight around the words, ensuring that the cowboy would have no choice to obey.

The anger slowly oozed out of the McCree as he hung his head in defeat. Usually mortals were a lot more indignant at such vows. They would yell and curse and cry and then, when all was said and done, would disobey the terms and instantly suffer the consequences. However McCree sat silent as if he could sense the power behind the words and accepted his fate. A rare talent for mortals. Interesting.

Satisfied at his work, Hanzo turned and prepared for himself turning back to his original form. Yet as he started to envision his long white hair and celestial markings he felt his mind slam into a mental wall. A growing sense of panic filled him as he tried again and again to access his godly form. 

Sensing his discomfort, McCree edged forwards, holding out a hand to steady him, despite Hanzo’s vow.

“Somethin’ wrong darlin’? You don’t look so good.”

Hanzo tried to wrestle his breathing under control. He couldn’t turn back. He couldn’t turn back. What would happen to the celestial domain? To all the things he held dominion over? To Genji? Gods knew his brother wouldn’t survive without him and in his current state, Hanzo wasn’t sure if he would survive another moment with McCree.

“I- I cannot change”

The cowboy’s eyes squinted in confusion.   
“What do you mean you can’t change?”

“I mean I can't become corporeal” Hanzo ran his hands over his arms, feeling suddenly cold, “I'm trapped. How can I be trapped. I-I should be able to go back. I. Am…” he wheezed clutching at his chest. Why did it hurt? It felt like his chest had turned to lead.

Warm hands touched his shoulder

“Hey. Hey darlin’ don't worry I'm sure we'll be able to figure this out yeah?” McCree let his hands slowly soothe up and down Hanzo's arms. “We can go to the temple of the Younger. That's your brothers temple right? M’sure he’ll help”

Hanzo nodded, panting slightly as his heartbeat slowed. Yes. Genji would help him. He may even be looking for him now.

Taking notice of the hands on his arms, Hanzo looked to McCree. He had banned this man from his temple and yet when he panicked the cowboy’s first thought had been to comfort him. Perhaps the he had misjudged him.

“You have my thanks.” Hanzo bowed his head. He felt slightly guilty for putting McCree in a difficult position. For all his talk, he seemed like a good man.

“Aw it weren't nothin’” the cowboy rubbed the back of his head, “It's been a while since you’ve been here last huh? No one can blame you for gettin’ worked up. Besides I’m sure Tekhartha Zenyatta might have a clue on how to help you.”

“Tekhartha Zenyatta?” Hanzo asked, squinting slightly. The name seemed familiar.

“Yeah, he’s your brother’s head monk right? Seen as a prophet or something.”

“Ah” Hanzo said with distaste, “him.” 

It wasn’t that Hanzo particularly disliked Zenyatta. The monk was surprisingly good at curbing Genji’s appetite for trouble. He would have even taken the monk for his own if he could. But after that one particular storm, Hanzo wasn’t sure that the monk would be very welcoming.

Yet Hanzo had no choice. Even if Zenyatta wouldn't help him he could still contact Genji. And if he didn’t contact the younger, well, Hanzo wasn’t above violence (as ashamed as he was to admit it.)

“Very well. Take me to him. We shall see what he had to say.” Hanzo dusted off his clothes. Hopefully there would be no more mishaps with this human body on the journey.

“Wait a minute” the cowboy shot Hanzo a frown. “We? There ain’t no we when I ain’t getting something out of it.”

Hanzo fumed. “I thought you were a good soul. Can’t you even find it in your heart to help me.”

McCree made a show of pondering, even going so far as to scratch his chin in thought.  
“Weeeeeelll” He grinned. “There is one itty bitty thang you you could do.”

Hanzo braced himself as McCree continued.

“You could take back your vow”

“What?” Hanzo blurted before following up with a harsh “No.” What was the point in saving the cowboy when he didn’t get anything out of it?

McCree scoffed. “Well then, I guess you'll be taking yourself”

Hanzo debated for the second time in one day. He did not want to be stuck here. Even if it meant rescinding his vow, he would find another way to stop McCree.

“Fine, I shall rescind my vow. Once!” He hastily added at McCree’s insistent expression, “I become a god again” 

The cowboy smirked. “Deal.” He held out his hand, his grin practically becoming wolf-like as Hanzo took it and shook. “Looking forward to workin’ with you my lord”

Hanzo frowned, “Do not do that” he said before turning sharply away from McCree prompting the cowboy to let out a bark of laughter. 

“You’re a mean one Elder, you know that?” He laughed, “Meaner than a rattlesnake.”

“My name is not Elder. It is Hanzo. You may call me by it for the time being” Hanzo began to pick his way over to the corpses to retrieve his arrow. He didn’t particularly need it, What with all the arrows in his quiver replenishing over time. Yet it gave him something to do, especially with the way his hands were shaking.

“Hanzoooo. Hanzo” the cowboy tested out the name on his tongue, failing each time. At least it wasn’t as if Hanzo would have to deal with it for long. Only until he reached his brother’s temple. Until then he would have to suffer.

McCree, finally done with botching up his name, came up alongside him.  
“Whelp guess we should be on our way then given the time and all.” He cocked his head, “Just follow my lead.”

Begrudgingly, Hanzo followed. The gorge proved tricky to pick through. Large rocks littered the floor, meaning that the pair had to climb for the most part. 

They had been smoothed by water, McCree supplied. Flash floods tore through every now and then, stripping the rock bare and leaving behind alien shapes of smooth rock, beautiful, but stupidly impossible to try and climb as Hanzo learnt within the first few tries. His human body was still trying to make up for centuries of disuse and it showed. McCree was constantly keeping an arm out for him as he desperately scrabbled to find a handhold on the rosy rock face. 

And yet as they strode out of the opening, panting and exhausted Hanzo was faced with the view of rolling hills and, in the far distance, the beginnings of lush woodland. His breath caught. It had been so long. He had nearly forgotten the beauty that this land held yet standing there, he couldn’t help but be moved by the sight. The trek through the gorge had been worth it, becoming human had almost been worth it.

The rest of the journey was plainly uneventful. Dull, even. McCree seemed to chatter on about anything and everything. Hanzo was regaled of stories about monsters and outlaws, many obviously bordering on being outright lies. Some being surprisingly familiar from the times when Hanzo had watched McCree. Either way, his chatter only served to be white noise as Hanzo set about fine tuning his movements. The lethal grace and ease that he had once been so proud of was slowly returning to him, piece by piece. 

When the trees finally gave way to buildings he had all but perfected his balance and was sure that, if he tried, he would be able to perform some of the more complex manoeuvres he knew. 

But there was no time to be thinking on such manoeuvres. He had a mission. The steady stream of pilgrims that were walking with him and McCree was growing into a torrent. Men, women, children, elderly. All seemed to find a place in the crowd and as the torrent turned the corner the temples loomed into view.

They both seemed so much larger up close. Lofty columns soared up to the sky, taller than the steps on which they rested. All manner of animals and humans lounged around the steps and main open area between the two. Decorations and offerings were everywhere. 

Well, not everywhere. Hanzo felt a pang of hurt flicker through him as he saw his barren temple. It was not as if it was in ruins or even in a slight state of disrepair. It was beautiful. Draped in hues of blue and gold, standing taller than the temple of the Younger. It was truly a sight to see. 

And yet, despite the beauty and the height, it seemed too much. Too tall and too perfect. Too intimidating. It seemed to repel all. The pilgrims shuffled close to the temple of the younger and even the animals seemed hesitant to walk over to the other side of the open area.

How had this happened? Hanzo knew that he was lacking in any followers whatsoever but he did not realise how distant he seemed to the mortals. Showering mortals with gifts only served to make them greedy. Answering their prayers made them demanding. There was no way to appease them so he had withdrawn from them.

McCree, as if sensing his thoughts, grabbed his wrist and began to pull him alongside the crowds and into the temple of the Younger. Hanzo couldn't even tear his eyes away, even as his temple was obscured by the walls of Genji’s. 

He vaguely registered McCree asking for Zenyatta and being pointed to a row of alcoves surrounding the main shrine. He didn't even hear the birdsong as they approached his brothers beloved monk. 

Hanzo the Elder, devastated by a problem of his own making. The thought was a bitter one. 

Yet as he sought to retreat deeper into his thoughts a warm light filled his mind. Life danced through his body, making him feel calm yet full of energy. Seeking the source, he came face to face with a familiar set of tattoos.

“Greetings Tekhartha.” He began hesitantly.

Instead of lashing out or even looking pissed off in the slightest, the monk smiled warmly. 

“And greetings to you Elder. Our temple is made brighter by your presence.” He finished with a short bow, causing the ring of orbs around his neck to bob gently. 

McCree and Hanzo exchanged wary glances. One of the few things Hanzo had explained on the journey to the temple was Zenyatta’s possible distaste for him and yet, now seeing the monk,  
It seemed like there had never been any anger at all.

“You seem confused.” Zenyatta remarked politely. His orbs chimed as if in answer and he frowned slightly, “You do not understand my welcoming tone.”

“Not really,” McCree's butted in. “More concerned ‘bout how you knew it was him in the first place.” A cigarillo hung precariously from his lips. Unlit, but nonetheless distracting.

The monk turned to McCree.   
“I do not need to recognise him to know him.” He tapped one of his orbs which sent off a clear peal and blinked with magical light.   
“The sparrow knows him, so I know him. A strange concept, but a true one nonetheless.”

He suddenly strode between McCree and Hanzo towards a pile of books. McCree took the opportunity to mouth “sparrow” in his direction with a quizzical draw of his eyebrow. Hanzo only shrugged and gestured to the temple around them. Genji had almost always been known as sparrow. Whether it had been for his love of the birds or the birds love of him remained a mystery that a surprising amount of philosophers chose to waste their time pondering.

Zenyatta returned with an ancient tome. The leather was at a state of “well-loved” that bordered on falling apart and the pages seemed thinner than onion skin yet Zenyatta pulled apart the pages hastily as he pored over the paragraphs. Bending slightly to the left gave Hanzo a clear view of the title.

“‘Compendium of Deities Malovent and Benevolent.’” He spoke aloud. “A strange book for a monk dedicated to a single god.”

The monk laughed lightly “It is best to study all gods whether you are dedicated to them or not. Something useful may come up. Like yourself.” He gestured towards Hanzo before returning to the book. He finally landed on a page with the picture of a mountain. A swirling vortex was pictured above with many hastily scribbled runes surrounding it.

“Ah. Yes. This is your best option.” Zenyatta pointed towards the vortex. “Shimada Peak has always been the spiritual heart of the two brothers. Go there, and you should be able to rejoin your brother within the heavens.” His robes whispered against the tiled floor as he studied the tome closer.

“Why not just get his brother here?” McCree had been silent for the most part, letting the monk explain in peace. Now he stood staring over Zenyatta’s shoulder at the battered tome, squinting as if trying to decipher it.

“The younger is… well…” Zenyatta waved his hand as if trying to think of the word. “Young.” He finally said with some defeat.  
“He does not bear enough power to help Hanzo. However the mountain is older than both brothers. Much older. Some say it's the remnants of old Sojiro himself.” 

McCree's brows pulled into a frown.  
“Sojiro?” He asked.

“My father.” Hanzo replied, Ignoring McCree's look of surprise. “His essence went into Genji and I. He began dissolving as soon as we came into existence and fizzled out when we reached maturity.”

“Damn harsh.” McCree murmured, his attention once again on the mountain. “So, we go there and Hanzo goes back to being high and mighty, I get my freedom, and everybody's happy?” He rubbed his hands together. “Let's get started then.” 

He moved to leave but was caught by Zenyatta who gave him a serene smile.

“The journey will be long and dangerous. Please, accept provisions from the temple to help you both on your way.”

McCree and Hanzo looked to each other again. Hanzo was not fond of accepting help, instead choosing to make his own way. However with his mortal body he was unsure how he would fare. And McCree was also making a unique interpretation of puppy eyes from behind Zenyatta.

He sighed. “Very well. We shall accept your offerings Tekhartha Zenyatta.” He bowed to emphasise his thanks.

“Very good.” Zenyatta smiled as he replied. “I shall see to it that Lucio shall provide you with whatever you need.”

\--------

An hour later saw the pair standing on the steps of the temple, full packs on their shoulders and the sun in their eyes. Lucio had turned out to be an energetic monk whose laughter chimed with jingles of happiness. He had sped through the temple at incredible speed, picking up items from all over the place and presenting them in two worn bags.

They were a welcome weight on Hanzo's back as he gazed at his temple as it was silhouetted by the setting sun.

“So.” He began. “Shimada Peak.”

It would be a long journey. Dangerous and full of surprises. Lesser men would run from such of thing. Yet Hanzo felt every shred of doubt leave his body as McCree turned to look at him, the golden rays highlighting his face in a way that was near angelic and replied.

“Shimada Peak.”


End file.
